Le Vrai Amour n'a pas de Fin
by PoorEriksChristine
Summary: When Christine Daaé sets out to discover the real story behind Gaston Leroux's most famous work, she gets more than she bargained for. Raoul lovers, please flame me! E/C


**A/N: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, it owns me**

"_The Opera ghost really existed."-Gaston Leroux, 1911_

Chapitre 1- Le Vieux Ami

As I studied my worn copy of The Phantom of the Opera, I had an intriguing thought. _Why is this book so often listed as fiction, when the author clearly believes it is real? And why does M. Leroux never interview Christine?_ It seemed quite odd that a respected journalist would have to prove the legitimacy of a story repeatedly, and that whilst researching the story, he never interviewed the very woman around whom the story centered. Something just didn't add up. I decided that I would go do some research at the library in a valiant effort to make sense of it all.

I had loved The Phantom of the Opera since childhood; my father read it to me every night before he became ill. That was one of the many things I missed now that my father had died. My mother died shortly after I was born, and she was the one who named me: Christine Amélie Daaé. My father died on my 10th birthday, and since then, I have never really cared to celebrate it. Mme Valerius, my landlady who is really more like a grandmother to me, insists every year that I at least have a small cake and a present. This year it had been the English translation of Phantom of the Opera, since I had been reading my father's French copy all these years.

I decided to take both versions with me, since I needed all the source materials I could get. I said goodbye to Mme Valerius, grabbed my book-bag, jacket, cell phone, and iPod, and headed out the door to the bus stop, bound for the library. I had been an avid reader thanks mostly to my father, and partly to my introverted personality. My father had also been an exceptional violinist, and he instilled in me a deep love of beautiful music, and the arts. I was always impressed by the grandiose beauty of the library building, since it had been built in the 1800's, setting it firmly in the Victorian period. It was a large, rambling structure with a domed roof, thick, heavy wooden doors, and wrought iron support beams. It was not without decoration though, as it had grotesquely carved gargoyles to divert rainwater off of the dome. I smiled as the bus let me off in front, because it meant that I would have a relatively short walk from there to the interior of the library. I pulled the door open, and made a beeline for the reference section, scouting out a table to work at in the meantime.

While poring over many thick, antiquated volumes, which almost never saw the light of day, I was vaguely aware of someone sitting down across from me, and beginning to stare. I grew quite uncomfortable, since I can't stand it when someone stares at me, especially when they are silent. So, I tried to bury my attentions in the plans of the Palais Garnier, and block out the growing discomfort and awkwardness of the situation. After about an hour of this torture, I could no longer handle it. "Um, e-excuse me, is there something I can do for…." As I trailed off, I realized I was staring into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. The face that went with them was quite handsome as well, and I was awestruck. He then opened his mouth to speak. "Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" _Great, it's one of those guys! _I thought, as I pretended to be impressed. "Wow, you are amazingly sweet!" _Ugh, I hope he doesn't try another- _"I must be lost, I thought Paradise was further south…." _Ok, Christine, you can do this, just play cool, and try not to beat him up… I've got it! _"Do I know you from somewhere? I could've sworn we have met before. I'm Christine Daaé; and you are….?" He looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered, answering "I'm Raoul de Chagny, at your service!"

"You look vaguely familiar," I said, reiterating the point, "Have we met before somewhere?" He thought for a moment, and then offered, "Maybe we met at the seaside or something. My family and I used to go every year before my dad died." _Yes, the seaside is how I'll catch him!_ "I went there once with my father. I was only six at the time, but I clearly remember the wind had whipped my favorite red scarf out into the sea, and a boy jumped in to retrieve it…. Could it have been you?" I didn't intend that he would agree, I had just made up all the details of the story to try and catch him in a lie. Suddenly, his eyes glowed with recognition, which was probably as sincere as his pickup lines were. "Yes, a red scarf….. I do remember now! You were that girl who always wore a red scarf and carried a battered book of fairytales around with you, right? God, it's great to see a familiar face here! Let me take you to dinner; my treat! I know just the place, it's called Café Paradis and it serves amazing French cuisine!" As he rattled on, I realized with growing dread that he actually thought he knew me! I hadn't eaten since earlier in the day when I had a light lunch, so I decided to take him up on the offer. I told myself I could continue my research another day.

Café Paradis was an unassuming looking building in a secluded part of town, but what it lacked in first impressions, it certainly made up for in atmosphere. It was a cozy, tasteful place decorated with faux gaslights, candles, and a warm color scheme. There was a fire burning in the grate, and the fireplace itself was made of unevenly hewn stone, giving it a handmade look. Raoul got steak-frites, and I got raclette with potatoes and sausage because nothing else sounded appetizing. When the food was brought, Raoul offered to buy me wine, but I declined, saying that I didn't care for it. "Oh, come on now, you _must_ try their wine. It's sweet, and rich, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it! Monsieur, le vin, s'il vous plaît?" Before I could squeak out a protest, a waiter was there, filling my glass with red wine. Needless to say, the rest of the date was cut short after dinner.

Raoul drove me home in the rain, and I was semi-grateful, since I wouldn't get wet. "I really enjoyed dinner tonight. You know, you are so much nicer than all the other girls I've dated. There's just something different about you, Christine, and it's really nice, you know? I hope you aren't too mad about the wine….." He trailed off, and watched my face for any kind of reciprocation. I bit my lip self-consciously. "Raoul, dinner was amazing, thank you so much! But I don't see you as any more than a friend at this point. It's moving a bit too fast for me. I hope I haven't hurt your feelings, but I'm just not ready for a boyfriend right now. I hope you understand." He had a look on his face that I couldn't read, even under the orange glow of the street lights. "No, I understand. I mean, we just met and all, I can't really expect love at first sight, can I? Especially not from two-timing sluts like you!" I was understandably hurt and confused by this remark, and the sudden change in his mood. "I'm not currently in a relationship, and I've _never_ been with a guy sexually; I'm actually still a virgin. If you'd be kind enough to let me out, I can walk from here." He pulled over. "I'd be happy to let you out! I don't like associating with your kind anyway! I mean, what's with that expensive ring on your finger if you're not in a relationship? You know what; I don't even _want _to know! Just get out!" I silently grabbed my things, and exited the car, not even caring that I was getting soaked. _Oh, well…at least no one will know I'm crying… _I thought as I walked the few blocks to my house.

When I got there, I was surprised to find the parlor light still on. I walked in quietly, not realizing that Mme Valerius was still awake. "How did your date go, Christine? Shall I expect that young man over for tea sometime?" I sat down slowly on a chair. "Things weren't great; in fact, they were terrible! He ordered me wine that I didn't want, and then as he drove me home, he had the audacity to call me a two-timing slut when he noticed the ring on my finger. I didn't even get a chance to explain….." Mme Valerius handed me a couple of tissues as I broke down again. I was still sobbing when she came back with some Earl Grey tea; my favorite. "Here, drink this. I put a mild sedative in it to help you sleep. Anyway, I don't think that young man would've understood the explanation for the ring. He doesn't strike me as the type to believe in an Angel of Music. I'm going to bed now; get some sleep, my lovely, it will make you feel better." As Mme Valerius tottered off to bed, I thought of all that had transpired during the day. _I suppose it serves me right for lying to him and leading him on. I really shouldn't have done that… Well, there's no way I can explain myself to him now that he thinks I'm a terrible person. _I drank the tea as I prepared for bed, since I wasn't sure how long the sedative would take to kick in. I finished it off, and washed out the cup and saucer, putting them back in the cupboard, getting into bed just in time, since I started feeling groggy after a few minutes. As I lay in bed, I thought I could barely make out a voice singing to me. It was a rendition of Ave Maria, strangely comforting me as I drifted into sweet sleep.


End file.
